Free Scotch Rising by S. J. Garland Page A

lack of genteel company has adversely affected the manners at my table.” Magnus gave Beathan and Philomena a hard stare. “Perhaps ye could tell us why ye chose tae enter the military ranks.”
    There would be no escape this evening from topics I tended to avoid in all company. Markinch was no place to keep secrets and why should I be resolved to hold old wounds to my chest, my tenancy already at less than a year. “In fact I joined the regiment on a whim to escape my uncle’s plans for a planned marriage.” I felt strangely disappointed by the lack of response from any of my dinner companions, Beathan continued to dish roast capon into his mouth, Philomena’s eyes glazed over and Magnus nodded sagely. As if he possessed a great understanding of the young and their foibles.
    “As my uncle’s only heir, he felt prompted to arrange a good marriage for me in order to continue our line infinitely into the future.” I pushed my plate away. I forced my mind to recall Lady Strathmore. All the small details of the late afternoon from the chiming of the clock on the mantelpiece to her delicately rouged lips. She was the débutante of the season. She possessed every social grace of young woman of quality. She sang, played an instrument, spoke several languages well. She was rich and, not unlike other women of her station, she was cruel to those she believed undeserving of her attention. I had witnessed her pitiless behaviour first hand.
    “I knew from the first we could never suit. I pleaded with my uncle to end the engagement. He would not and I joined the regiment to escape.” I thought of the look on Mr Wick’s caring face as I pounded on the knocker at his townhouse, demanding entrance. “With some help from an old friend, I enrolled in my late father’s platoon and was soon away to Boston.”
    “It is fashionable fur a man tae hae at least one broken engagement these days.” Philomena remarked sourly, not meeting my eye, instead watching the serving staff clear away the plates. “Young men need a hint of scandal in order tae get intae the best drawing rooms. Where the incomparables are hidden away from the rest of society.”
    Magnus cleared his throat at the end of the table. “The papers speak of the immense riches of the New World, tobacco and cotton plantations spring intae life with nary a problem. Huge shipbuilding yards produce vessels with the latest inventions. It is a land of opportunity where with a little capital, a man might make much fur himself.”
    “The papers have the right of it, most of the time. It’s a hard life for settlers away from the protection of towns or militia. Especially as the French are wont to make skirmishes into our territory in order to expand their influence with their ungodly ways.” I shrugged my shoulders. I was no longer an active soldier. I was a cog in a wheel of bureaucracy.
    With the mention of the French, Beathan lifted his head from the next course and leaned towards me. “All the French be damned.” Magnus raised his wineglass with a quiet. “Hear, hear,” while Philomena rolled her eyes. Beathan continued. “Did ye fight the dastardly fellows yerself, Captain? We only receive the barest of news when it comes tae fighting in the Americas.”
    I studied Philomena’s profile across the table. She had studiously ignored my gaze since I mentioned jilting Lady Strathmore. She clearly believed an alliance with her own sex much more important than civil conversation to aid in digestion. Not unlike other high-strung females of my acquaintance. Finally, she turned her green eyes to meet mine. “I assure ye, Captain, any mention of atrocities in which ye participated in the New World will nae make me think any less of ye.”
    The challenge hit the table. Magnus and Beathan watched the pair of us warily. “There are no real battles to be had with the French, nothing to give a complete victory to either side, mostly because of the frugality of each country’s